So I spent the day thinking that maybe I wouldn’t post today. Don’t get me wrong – the day was going great. Bucolic scenes. Nice biking. Quaint covered bridge in the cute little town of Zumbrota. Good bike path (that is, not some annoying cobbled together thing like yesterday’s trip to Hastings) into Rochester.
But a beautiful blue sky day is not the stuff of good blog posts. I mean, really, who wants to read about rainbows and teddy bears?
”It was so glorious. You could see all the pretty colors. And the rainbow ended right at our bikes. And then a perfect unicorn teddy bear fell down from the sky and we all hugged and ate mochi. . .”
Yawn.
But fortunately for your reading pleasure, our day did not end with hugs and kisses . . .
We’ll start at the Aldi in Rochester. There’s nothing wrong with Aldi, and really Aldi didn’t do anything wrong today. But that’s where our story starts . . .
So we’re in Aldi and we’re hungry. And the thing is, Aldi is kind of like the Costco or Sam’s Club of regular grocery stores. You can’t buy two potatoes. You can buy 5 pounds of potatoes. You can’t buy one clove of garlic. You can buy a three-pack of garlic cloves. You can’t buy a stick of butter. You can buy a pound of butter. But we’re hungry. So we buy 5 pounds of potatoes, a three-pack of garlic, a pound of butter, and a big piece of trout.
And then we’re off to the campsite a few miles south of town. The route? Highway 63. Complete with 70 mile-per-hour on and off ramps. Can I just say that 70 MPH on and off ramps are not fun when you’re riding maybe 15 on your loaded bikes.
But we do see a farm stand along the way and we add two ears of super-fresh corn (they were literally throwing the corn off of the farm truck as we were standing there) to our stock of potatoes, garlic, butter, and trout.
So, yes, the road is pretty horrible, but it’s only a few miles and we finally arrive at the Hidden Valley RV Park (the name has been changed to protect the innocent- that is, us – from the wrath of the “Park” operators after they read this story . . .). We ride in and it looks pleasant enough – with plenty of space available. Just a few RVs scattered here and there.
We approach the camp host trailer to secure our spot and make dinner. No one is there so I give a quick “Hello.”
Immediately we hear several versions of CUJO barking their not-very-friendly salutations.
Diana remarks that it’s a good thing we got our rabies vaccines . . .
A few seconds later the door starts to creep open but it’s quite a procedure to exit the trailer as the tattoo-laden camp host tries to extricate himself while keeping CUJO and friends inside.
He finally makes it out, slamming the screen door behind him – but the Hounds from Hell are now lunging at the door, never taking a break from their greeting chorus.
At this point Camp Host unhooks the outside storm door and slams it on the dogs. The barking fades to the background – momentarily.
Sadly, it is only a few seconds before the mangy beasts have knocked both doors aside and they are out in the “yard” – a patch of dirt with some cobbled together fencing – offering their rage to the world – and our conversation . . .
”What do you want?” the Camp Host asks – ignoring the dogs, and sounding about as friendly as that missive sounds . . .
”We’re hoping to get a campsite,” I say. (I guess he’s just not used to people on bikes . . .)
He looks at me like I’m wrong-in-the-head.
“You can’t camp here,” he says.
“Umm, what?”
”We don’t allow camping in tents,” he offers. “People in tents always leave garbage so we stopped allowing them . . .”
There is some more conversation, but let’s just take a step back. I like to think of Diana and I as pretty upstanding citizens. Diana’s a respected doctor. I’m an attorney by trade (maybe that’s an admission against interest in this situation – but you get my point . . .). Other than the time Diana was cited for trespassing when she climbed over the fence at the Ithaca Town Pool (after it was closed for the season) to swim laps when we were in college we have no criminal records. We have two kids. We own a house. All the trappings of the American middle class.
And here we are with Camp Host Guy – who lives in a trailer with three feral dogs – and he is treating us like the vagrants that I guess we are now . . .
Anyway, we call around and the only other reasonably close “campground” also doesn’t allow tent camping – “because Rochester won’t let us . . .”
We come up with a new plan. We’ll find a regular old park, make dinner, and then make a new plan – like going back down the 70 MPH on and off ramp highway and finding a hotel – since nobody else will take us.
After we find a park that, according to Google Maps, is just a few miles away I tell Diana that maybe we can just camp in the park. This idea doesn’t thrill Diana, but we defer that argument until after dinner – and we head to the park.
We get there – only to find that we are now in suburban hell and this park has no amenities. No grills. No picnic tables. No playground. Not even a baseball field. Just a big grassy expanse. Right next to about 20 identical homes . . .
Even I have to agree we’re not camping here . . .
I spot a lady walking her lap dog on the other side of the park. I go over to her, but what I say to her is different than what I mean.
What I say:
”Do you know where the nearest place to camp is? They won’t let us tent camp at the nearby RV Park.”
What I mean:
”Can we camp in your backyard?”
Now, people who live around the Mayo Clinic are supposed to be smart – doctors and scientists and all . . . But she clearly has no idea of my true meaning. She starts telling us how there’s a campground 15-20 miles away. (Like we’re going to just ride there – no problem . . .)
I mean, she’s at least not talking a dialect of yesterday’s geriatric language – but she completely doesn’t get it. I eventually figure out there is a hotel a mile away and we take off to head there.
And this is where our day really goes wrong. Diana is now frustrated and angry – and as we bike up the final climb to the hotel, Diana takes an extra-aggressive stroke on her bike and – snap – she pulls her hamstring.
We’ll dispense with the rest of the story. Suffice to say that the hotel host at the Rochester Airport Hotel now has five pounds of potatoes, a pound of butter, two ears of fresh corn, and a very nice piece of trout . . .
So sad.
At least they have a hot tub at the hotel so that Diana could massage her hamstring. And yes, you’re right. Diana should take it easy. But that’s like telling a dolphin not to swim. Good luck with that . . .
So that’s our rainbows and unicorns report . . .
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Diana & John's Biking Adventures 
wow! Good luck! Maybe a little THC-CBD-CBG-CBN would be helpful
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I need to learn all those acronyms. Maybe a new goal for the trip . . . 🙂
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We’ll be thinking of you today and hoping things go much better!!
Sending you lots of love,
Sally/Mom & Willie/Dad
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we’re all good. Having a great time!
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Oh man, what a rough day! I thought Minnesota was more friendly towards cyclists/outdoor enthusiasts, but sounds a lot like NYC…hopefully the worst days in retrospect will be the ones you laugh about later. Hope Diana’s hamstring is just a minor strain and that better days are to come!
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Jon- Actually, yesterday was a great day. And we will definitely laugh about that story in the years ahead. Don’t worry too much about Diana. No one is more resilient than my wife!
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the last one was my comment…from my phone comes up as anonymous. Have a better/great day today!
Jon
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Hey John….great read. Here’s to being resilient….something you are both likely good at and likely to get better at. Cheers!
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well… at least the “rubber side” stayed down. You have that going for you both.
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so far so good on that!
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Jon,
I think vagrants are allowed to camp by the abandoned windmill blades on the south side of Rochester. They said they have pets there, raccoons and such.
Take care Diana.
Brad
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Should have consulted with you beforehand. Diana would have loved that site… 😁
Diana is a little tender, but she is, of course, tough as nails…
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So happy to have met you this morning and doubly glad that I asked about your biking. Best of luck on your journey. I will be following your blog.
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we love meeting people along the way! Looking forward to staying connected!
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You guys crack me up. Hamstring, shamstring! Diana’s got another one so she should be just fine.
Glad to see you both are keeping your sense of humor. I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to cross the MN border today and leave that unfriendly, backwards, non-English speaking state behind you. Haha.
Love following your journey.
Xox Rebecca
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Imagine that, a campground with no tents allowed! What happened to Minnesota nice. At least you got the bad days out of the way! Good luck
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Minnesota Nice indeed . . . Thinking Iowa will be good on that front. The farther away from the starting point we get the more impressed people are. Maybe more sympathy will come with that. . . . But just to clarify, all three days so far have been great. Can’t have a triumphant day without something to overcome . . . 🙂
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At this rate your trip is going to be the basis for quite the movie. I hope you make it out of MN in one piece
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Exactly. Just crossed into Iowa and Diana is out swimming across the artificial lake at the campground right now . . . 🙂
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Yikes, it HAS to get better. Having pulled a hamstring before, I am in complete commmiseration.
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We still want to know how you cooked “five pounds of potatoes, a pound of butter, two ears of fresh corn, and a very nice piece of trout” at the hotel?
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Sadly, the hotel had no grill. We gave it all to the hotel host. Ended up eating at the Mexican place next door . . .
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“I’ll take the good times, I took the bad times”….Billy Joel, Just The Way You Are
Patience attains the goal….
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For some reason that song has been going through my head the last few days. I guess my unconscious mind is smarter than I think . . . 🙂
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John: after living in Rochester for 4 years, thank you Mayo brothers for selecting the location, we coined the adapted name which you can feel free to use: Crotch-fester…
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Love it!
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do you guys know about warm showers??
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A pound of Potatoes? Oh my goodness, I would have purchased those already made easy meals that you just warm-up! What I would really crave is a piece of your homemade grilled pizza!
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Lori – So great to meet you. We actually did enjoy the bike path into town and I wouldn’t write Rochester off at all – just wouldn’t try to camp there again. Safe journeys . . . Keep the comments coming . . . 🙂
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We actually did make the grilled pizza in the Boundary Waters a few months ago. Needed my daughter Lauren along for that one; she’s a pro campfire cook. But maybe we’ll try that along the way. Would be easy to let the dough rise as we bike along during the day . . .
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So, this is the Rochester-born Minnesotan that you just met at the campground in Iowa. I take no offense, having been earned, and I feel bad for your experience in my hometown. It sounds like you missed all the good parts? If you want to turn back and try again, I’d be happy to give suggestions. It was great to meet you and I wish you all the best on your travels. Lori
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John, these blog posts are exactly what I was hoping for to spruce up my morning coffee routine before rollerskiing or mountain biking – it’s better than the newspaper!! Keep ’em coming!! You are also inspiring me to kick-start my plans for my second bike ride across the country, although hopefully with a tiny bit more planning :). Can’t wait to be struggling at the end of the day looking for a camp site. Enjoy the trip, you are only a few more days from “settling in” !!!! -Bill
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Great to hear from you Bill. Can’t wait to hear about your second trip . . .
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John you don’t know me but I meet Diana at the Lutsen 99er years ago. I love reading your very entertaining blog. Hope you feel better soon and Diana’s hamstring heals quickly.
Shanie
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Shanie – Good to hear from you. Diana was just commenting at the end of the day today that some of these rides feel like she just finished the 99er . . . I’ll make sure Diana knows you’re out there . . . 🙂
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